I had a little Polo.
It was in mint condition
Until I drove it, solo,
Into a lake so murky
Perks like a sunroof failed me
Unless I felt more perky
And saw the hole availed the
Ability to save my life...
Like a life ring flung through strife!
To rid all of the riddle,
My car was never riddled,
But, one hole in the middle,
(Just like sweet ring) death diddled!
The road might have been Wrigley;
Blacked bends dark, as After Eight;
But nervousness was giggly
When I saw I'd cheated fate.
A nervous Tic Tac' fast had changed,
But tactics surfaced less deranged!
The road, like mire, was Murray;
Winds swept wood: a Tre' bor' down.
Through icy hills I hurry;
Skidding streets from town to town.
Then a Glacier Foxes me...
Slipped through ice, cold drink I sip;
But the car that boxes me
Shan't be coffin in murk's grip.
Immersed,aid-is not quick to rise;
So I've no bends, but Benz to prize!
